


Stormy Weather

by archer_of_fate



Series: Our Lives To Live [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Reincarnation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 19:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/446492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archer_of_fate/pseuds/archer_of_fate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Robb wishes it were easier, but then he shakes his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stormy Weather

Sometimes Robb wishes it were easier, but then he shakes his head. Where would he and Theon be if things had been easy?

They wouldn’t be here, Robb knows that.

\-----

The war draws to an end, and all Robb cares about is getting as far from London as he possibly can. His family now is decimated: a mother killed in the bombings, a younger brother that had been shipped to North Africa and had come back in a coffin.

They call him John, and Robb doesn’t want to be John anymore.

Theon stares at him, inscrutable, when he brings up the cottage by the sea again. “You’re serious, then?” He fiddles with his braces, and Robb leans over to slide a hand over his, stilling the fidgeting. “You’re serious,” Theon repeats, and he laughs.

Robb doesn’t stop him when he gets to his feet, ungainly with the crutches still, and moves out to the boarding house porch. He stares at the door and sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose.

It’s a mess, and Robb knows it. The city is still in a shambles, and he knows Theon has tried to contact the family he has now but has received no reply. Robb has called round to his parents, spoken to his bereft sister, but knows that this isn’t where he wants to be.

He knows what he wants, but has no idea what Theon wants. The idea is frustrating enough that Robb accepts Mrs. Jameson’s offer of the precious whisky from her medicine chest, smiling weakly at her as she bustles about and talks on and on about taking better care of himself.

\-----

Robb sits bolt upright when the bed frame begins to shake, and when he opens his eyes Theon’s face swims blearily above him.

“The... Stephen?” He slurs, sitting up to rub at his bleary eyes, not sure what to expect. Robb still isn’t sure how Theon managed to get in here, but he knows that the walls are thin and it’s best to keep up some pretenses. “What--”

“I’m not in love with you,” Theon says, and Robb stares up at him, trying to tamp down on the disappointment blooming in his chest. “I’m not. I can’t just leave you though.”

“What are you saying?” Robb manages, but it sounds strained even to his own ears, too loud as he tries to keep his voice level and fails. He is hyper-aware of the sheet tangled at his waist, the fact that he’s sleeping in his underwear, and Robb can’t help the flush that creeps up the back of his neck.

“I’ll live with you, but only because nobody wants a cripple and you’re the only bit of normal I’ve got left.” His voice is too calm, and Robb wants to point out that Theon could make a go of it alone if he wanted but he knows that it’s a lie; Theon is right, and he knows he’s right.

Theon moves away then, piece said, and collapses onto his bed with a tired grunt, his crutches clattering to the floor.

Robb listens to him snore quietly until the sun begins to rise, unable to sleep, and wishes for a brief moment that he’d never found Theon in that hospital.

\-----

They find a small flat in Dover, but that’s the least of Robb’s worries. He finds work easily enough at the Harbour, but Theon is left to his own devices for the day and Robb can tell that it’s wearing on him. Theon is by turns snappish and cruel, lashing out at Robb, jealous of him but too stubborn to admit it.

Robb has finally had enough of it, and when he hears the tell-tale thumping of Theon’s crutches in the kitchen he follows. It’s late and Robb has work in a few hours, but the need to confront Theon is more important--this tension has been going on for too long.

“Theon?” Robb queries, one hand raking through his hair as he peers into the dim kitchen. He hears tapping, and moves closer, hand nudging close to Theon’s where it rests by the sink. “Look, about my job...”

“A job’s a job, Stark, and we need the money.” Robb has heard Theon angry before, knows that his temper is usually fiercer, but this is not anger--this is bitterness, and it’s a hard pill for Robb to swallow. He wants to say that he knows that Theon will be okay, but knows he doesn’t have the right; how can he when he has no idea what Theon is going through?

“I know.” Robb bites at his lip for a split second before he forces the words he’s been mulling over for days, for too long. “I talked to a fellow I know from work. His father owns a grocery and wants to give you a job. I might have exaggerated your love of arithmetic, but he wants you to come work for him.”

Theon is quiet for a long, long moment and Robb nearly opens his mouth to babble out nonsense just to fill up the silence, but Theon is speaking and Robb is intensely grateful for it. “I don’t need your pity, Robb. I don’t want it from anyone but especially not from you.”

Theon’s fingers brush fleetingly over Robb’s, and Robb feels something akin to hope flare to life in his chest. “Tell him I’ll come.” Theon gathers up his crutches, pensive again, but it doesn’t last long this time. “Just don’t do this again, Robb. I meant what I said about pity.”

Robb wants to pretend he doesn’t hear the anguish in Theon’s voice, but he just can’t. It’s another sleepless night, and thankfully he doesn’t see Theon in the morning when he slips out the door to work.

\-----

Theon begins work that week, and Robb is pleased to find that the hostility dissipates. With Theon no longer angry at him, they settle into a mundanely domestic routine. It’s a nice change from walking on eggshells all the time, and Robb can’t complain, but there are times when he feels Theon’s eyes on him and wonders what’s going on in his head.

Robb wants to ask because he has known Theon for hundreds of years now, and Robb wants to believe that Theon trusts him now. That he trusts him still, because he remembers snow and a wolf and Theon’s wide, mischievious smile.

Robb wants that back, but doesn’t know how to go about getting it, and so he smiles when Theon frowns, encourages when Theon complains, and tries to prove to Theon that while he is sincere, this is not pity.

Robb loves him, loves him more now than he ever has, but Theon doesn’t seem to realize it at all. It’s nearly enough to drive Robb mad with frustration, and it isn’t long before he is the one brooding over the evening paper, carefully avoiding Theon’s curious looks.

\-----

It is thundering loud enough that Robb swears he can feel the room shake, but that’s not what wakes him. A bony elbow is digging uncomfortable into his ribs, and Robb sits up too quickly, heart beating in his throat.

Theon grumbles and curls closer, and Robb can make out the dim shapes of what he assumes are Theon’s crutches on his bedroom floor. Robb can’t breathe--this is familiar, but is has been so long and he wants this, but not like this. He is confused, and that is why he leans over and shakes Theon awake. “What are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep,” Theon murmurs blearily, messy hair sticking up in tufts, and the lust hits Robb hard, knocking the wind out of him. “Dreams. The accident.” The mention of the accident is enough to force Robb to realize that now is not the time, despite the fact his cock has other ideas. Theon has only mentioned the accident twice before, but Robb has gathered enough that he knows the details.

Theon’s plane had been shot down in Germany, but had miraculously crashed over the border with Belgium. Even at that, he had been one of the few to survive, but his leg had been so shattered that there was no hope of setting the bones.

“Oh,” Robb finds himself saying, blinking at Theon as Theon arranges himself so his head rests on Robb’s pillow. Theon tugs at his hand then, and Robb lets Theon curl around him, arranging Robb’s limbs so Theon is plastered to his back, an arm around Robb’s middle.

It might have been ironic that Theon was the one protecting Robb, but Robb realizes that it has always been this way. Something he can’t put a name to twists in his chest, and he lays there for a long while, listening to the even sounds of Theon’s snoring, before he falls asleep.

\-----

Sunday is the only day Robb gets a lie-in, and when he wakes to the weak winter sun shining through the threadbare curtains, he finally feels at peace.

Theon is awake, breath tickling at the nape of Robb’s neck, and for a moment Robb isn’t sure if he should turn and address this tension between them or leave it to keep festering. Festering isn’t a good thing, and it’s gotten them nowhere, and Robb is still at heart a Stark--dancing around the subject was never his strong point.

“Theon,” he murmurs, settling on his side facing him, surprised (and yet not, because this is Theon) to find blue, blue eyes staring at him, inscrutable as ever. Robb feels the words he meant to say drying up in his mouth, and instead he lets a shy, earnest smile curl the corners of his lips. “It’s Sunday.”

Theon’s eyebrows draw together, and Robb laughs, reaching to rub at the crease in his forehead. He grumbles something and reaches to bat Robb’s hand away, but Robb catches his wrist, and it’s then, watching Theon watch him, that Robb realizes Theon knows something is amiss. “Come for a walk with me,” Robb says then, slightly breathless.

Theon pulls his hand away and pushes up on his elbows, twitching the coverlet back. “My leg,” he sighs, and turns away from Robb.

“It won’t be far, I promise.” Robb smooths a hand over Theon’s shoulder and forces it not to linger. “I’ll be there to help you.”

Theon sighs again, and Robb knows he’s won.

\-----

The ends of Theon’s crutches sink into the sand and eventually he tires of wrenching them free. Robb lets him wrap an arm around his shoulders, his hand going around Theon’s waist, and takes most of Theon’s weight as they make their way down the beach.

Theon is quiet, so quiet, and Robb is afraid to look at him, afraid of his disapproval. Theon swore he would never go to the sea again--it reminds him of things he wants to forget, things he can never forget. “Why are we here?” He asks, and Robb feels guilty for the hurt he hears there.

“You needed to come here, Theon--”

“You don’t know what I need!” Theon turns, or tries to, and wavers unsteadily. Robb makes to drag him close, to steady him, and Theon glares at him. “You’ve always been Robb Stark, King in the North, too focused on what you wanted to care a whit about me.” He is frowning, and when he moves to shove Robb backward, succeeding in making Robb stumble, he loses his balance and falls backwards.

It is there, sprawled on his back in the sand, that Theon sobs, great angry sobs that sound like they are being wrenched from him. “Why do you even care? I betrayed you, and you died--you died, Robb, and you chose her over me. Why haven’t you left me this time?”

Robb hits his knees in the sand, reaching for Theon before he thinks that it is a bad idea. He reaches for him anyway, arms curling around Theon’s shoulders, and to his immense surprise Theon sags against him. “I’m sorry,” Robb says into Theon’s hair, and he’s never meant anything more. He had never known how this, had never really had the chance to know how his actions had affected Theon, and hearing it now is like a slap to the face.

He had been so stupid, all those years ago, and it has taken him lifetimes to realize it.

“Theon,” Robb finds himself saying, choking on it, because he should have told him this long ago and hadn’t been brave enough at the time. “I love you.” Tears burn in his eyes now, and Robb is almost surprised to find himself crying along with Theon. “I love you,” he repeats, and Theon turns his face away from his neck, pulls back.

Warm, calloused hands curl to either side of Robb’s face, and Theon is staring at him, eyes red-rimmed and so blue. “You do?” He asks, and it sounds so frail, so full of disbelief that it makes Robb’s heart hurt. “Not because of the leg?”

“No, you daft thing,” Robb says, and he pries Theon’s hands away, tangling their fingers together. He leans his forehead to Theon’s and just breathes, the smell of the sea sharp in the air. “I was so stupid, Theon. I never thought-- I never thought of you, of what it meant to you when I married Jeyne.” He opens his eyes to peer at Theon, at the faint scattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “But I’m here with you now. This is our life to live together--we’ve spent so many apart that don’t you think we deserve one where we’re together?”

Theon pulls back, and his eyes focus on a point behind Robb. There are voices, people approaching, but Theon squeezes his hands. “Help me up, you great lumbering oaf,” he says, the hint of a familiar smile tucked away into the corner of his mouth, and his hand lingers at Robb’s collar for a second too long.

\-----

“How long?” Robb pants against Theon’s mouth, blue eyes meeting blue even as Robb’s hand is slipping beneath Theon’s coat to palm his cock through his trousers. “How long has it been?”

Theon makes a strangled noise, color flushing high on his cheeks, and Robb squeezes just to get his attention again. Theon’s head thunks back against the door, and he grits out a harsh, “Does it matter?” He leans closer to lick at Robb’s bottom lip, eyes burning hotly into Robb’s. “She wasn’t you.”

It’s Robb’s turn to moan, and he kisses Theon with a ferocity that threatens to consume. Theon clings, crushing him closer, pulling back to press his mouth to Robb’s chin, his cheek, before licking back into his mouth with a reckless abandon that is so Theon that it makes Robb smile.

“Bed?” He grins at Theon, at the wide-blown pupils and reddened lips that he’s caused. Theon nods, eyes not straying far from Robb’s mouth, and without a word Robb scoops Theon into his arms and dumps him unceremoniously on the bed.

Theon squawks indignantly even as he leans over to unlace and tug off his boot, mouth working into a frown. “You didn’t have to do that,” he grumbles, fingers making quick work of his buttons and tugging his shirt over his head. “I’m perfectly capable--”

“Leave that.” Robb strips away his own trousers and dumps them on the haphazard pile of clothing, intent on getting closer to Theon as quickly as possible. He surveys Theon’s half-finished attempt at ridding himself of his own trousers before he leans over to slide his hand over Theon’s chest, from collarbone to where his underwear and trousers are hitched low on his hips. 

“I’ve thought about this so many times,” Robb breathes, and Theon is watching him, quiet, like he can’t quite believe this is happening. “I’ve dreamed of it, of you fucking me so hard I feel it for days.” He sinks to his knees by the side of the bed, hand still flattened on Theon’s abdomen, and Theon’s tug on his hair is vicious enough that it brings tears to Robb’s eyes.

“If you don’t undress me and get over here, Stark, I’m bloody leaving.” Theon’s grip is gentler now, and Robb is scrabbling for the tin of lubricant he kept stashed away in his bedside table. Theon’s clothing is yanked down and guided off in a matter of seconds, and then Robb is clambering over him, straddling him.

Theon tugs him down to kiss him, one arm draping around Robb’s neck, but the kiss is too short for Robb’s liking and all too soon Theon is pushing him back. “Less kissing, more fucking,” he pants, and Robb has to agree. He pulls the top off the tin and finds Theon is giving him a strange look.

“I want you inside me,” Robb says as a means of explanation, already reaching behind himself, and Theon’s hands settle warmly on his thighs, balancing him as he works himself open. “I wasn’t... kidding when I said I’d dreamed about this,” Robb grins, breathing hitching as he finds that spot that makes his toes curl. Theon watches his every move, transfixed by the awkward rocking motion of Robb’s arm, and Robb feels himself flush from the scrutiny.

Eventually he tires of waiting, and it’s too easy to reach for Theon’s cock and slick it. Theon makes a breathy gasp as the head of his cock slips inside, and Robb is too eager--he shoves down until Theon is fully inside, and Theon’s eyes roll back in his head even as he moans. “Jesus Christ.”

Robb grins and leans over him, mouth pressing teasing kisses up Theon’s sternum before easing over Theon’s lips. “Robb’ll do, you know.” Theon rolls his eyes and arched his hips just so, hitting that spot that makes Robb keen.

After that, there is a frenzied rutting the likes of which Robb cannot remember: Theon pulling him down onto his cock as Robb pushed down, the tightness and anticipation growing and growing until Robb is shaking apart, dropping forward to collapse against Theon’s chest. A few more thrusts and Theon is coming too, as quietly as ever, slumping into the bed.

“Off,” Theon mumbles, pushing at Robb’s shoulders. “You’re crushing me.” Robb slides off and Theon sits up, moving back to lay back against the pillows. “You sure know how to wear a body out.”

Robb stays where he is for a moment, sprawled on his side, Theon’s bony knee the only thing he can see. After a moment to catch his breath, he is crawling up between Theon’s legs, nudging them farther apart. “Tired already? What happened to the Greyjoy stamina?” He grins filthily at Theon as he dips his head, licking his own release from where it splattered across Theon’s chest.

“Robb...” Theon’s hand is in his hair again, and Robb bites down on a pebbled nipple. “No touching,” he orders, laving over where he’s bitten once Theon’s hands are folded behind his head. “Good boy.”

Theon’s body is no less beautiful than his original body, but it is different. Pale, as Robb remembers, but there are faint dustings of freckles across his chest that are new. Robb presses sloppy, open-mouthed kisses to them, nosing his way down the center of his chest, rubbing his thumb through the trail of brownish hair that leads to Theon’s cock.

Robb takes his time licking at the curve of Theon’s hipbones, sucking a bruise there as if to claim him, always aware of Theon’s eyes following him.

It is only when he darts his tongue out to lick at Theon’s softened cock that Theon moves, hands swooping down to shove him away. Robb catches at his wrists and pins them to the bed, head tilting to catch Theon’s eye. “You can, and you will do this for me because you’re mine.”

He lowers his head again, but this time presses chaste kisses to Theon’s cock, lingering at the head for a brief moment before beginning again at the base. Theon is making ragged, keening noises, muscles tensing as he tries to draw away from Robb, but Robb is having none of it. He rubs his nose along Theon’s length, breathing in the scent of him, before he curls his hand gently around Theon’s cock and lifts it, pressing his nose into Theon’s sac and breathing in.

“Robb, Robb,” he hears Theon saying, and Theon’s free hand is fluttering at his side, uncertain of where to go. It settles in Robb’s hair, surprisingly gentle, and Robb tentatively laps at the head of Theon’s cock. The sound Theon makes is nothing but animalistic, a throaty groan, and Robb closes his mouth around the head and sucks gently.

Theon is hardening again, and Robb runs his tongue down the underside of Theon’s cock, following the vein. He feels Theon’s hips twitch, and it is with a sense of accomplishment that Robb closes his mouth around the head of Theon’s cock and sucks harder.

Theon’s hips snap up so hard that he nearly tosses Robb off, but Robb bears him down, easing his cock further into his mouth until his nose is pressed into Theon’s pubic hair. Theon is babbling incoherently and Robb pulls back to breathe before pressing back down, taking Theon into his throat again.

He releases Theon’s other hand, pulling back to look up at Theon, lips red and swollen. “I want to you to fuck my mouth,” he explains, voice raspier than normal, and Theon’s hands are tangling in his hair, guiding him down again.

It isn’t long until Theon is coming apart again, shaking as Robb swallows him down. Robb pulls off of him with one last lick to the head of his cock before Theon is pulling Robb up alongside him, kissing Robb hard before he gentles it and licks his taste from Robb’s mouth.

“You’re impossible,” he says, but he grins fondly at Robb, hand sneaking down between them to curl around Robb’s cock, hard and weeping between his legs. A few quick strokes and Robb is coming with a grunt, and Theon is kissing him down from his orgasm like his life depends upon it.

“You’re mine,” Robb says, fingers brushing Theon’s sweaty hair back from his forehead, lingering at Theon’s cheek.

“I’m yours,” Theon replies, eyes serious as he turns his head to kiss Robb’s palm. “Now and always, remember?”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally for the ASOIAF Kink Meme prompt: messy orgasms, sometimes they're so hungry they just can't stop. Somewhere along the way the prompt merged with the reincarnation 'verse in my head and went from straight-up porn to plot and feelings everywhere.


End file.
